


(Not) Just Another Lonely Girl

by Anthropedia



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: 5+1 Things, Character Study, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-26
Updated: 2017-09-26
Packaged: 2019-01-05 15:19:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12192450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anthropedia/pseuds/Anthropedia
Summary: This is my gift to virvenotion.tumblr.com, who requested an Allura-centric piece as part of the VLD Lunar Ladies Exchange.What started out as more of a chronical of what I imagine Allura's childhood to be/character study has taken on a life of its own and kind of become a bit of a love letter to Allura and (my take on) the experiences that made her into the beautiful, strong, powerful person we know and love.





	(Not) Just Another Lonely Girl

**Author's Note:**

  * For [VirveNotion](https://archiveofourown.org/users/VirveNotion/gifts).



> To VirveNotion: I know this isn't exactly what you requested, and for that I am sorry. But I really do hope you enjoy this at least half as much as I did writing it.

_**Separate** _

They were right there. Just like they always were, almost every afternoon as weather allowed.

In plain view, outside her window. Making a ruckus as they dashed about in the courtyard that separated The Castle of Lions from the rest of the city.

Allura could see them chasing each other around. She could hear their shrieks of laughter and shouts of joy. She could almost feel the excited, carefree atmosphere surrounding the other children as they played.

Almost.

But Allura had never experienced such reckless, carefree fun. Not with anyone she could truly call a friend.

As much fun as Coran could be. As wonderful and loving as both her parents were. As kindly as all who lived and worked in the castle treated her.

It just wasn’t the same as having friends her own age.

The only times she could remember ever meeting other kids even close to her age were at those stuffy parties and get-togethers all the Royal and Ambassador families threw every once and awhile. Allura hated those. They were always so boring and she always had to wear her fancy gowns that made her feel all wrapped up and packaged like a bouquet of Juniberry flowers.

But none of them were ever really Allura’s friends. They all had a job to do at those gatherings, just like their parents. They were on their best form, always trying to show off just how regal and well behaved they were.

But there in front of her window,

She hadn’t meant her sigh to be loud enough to interrupt Coran mid monologue. She didn’t want him to think she wasn’t paying attention. The last thing she needed was to give her ridiculous mentor a reason to restart his lesson on how to convert Groggeries into each currency within The Alliance. Again.

But ever vigilant, even while lost in the depths of the discrepancies between the standards behind the most prominent currencies; Coran still managed to pick up on the wistful glance Allura was giving the window.

Noticing the lull in the otherwise constant flow of jargon coming out of her teacher’s mouth; Allura immediately whipped her head back to look at the red-haired man.

She didn’t know what he was thinking as his pout faded from one of annoyance to understanding; but the longer she watched, the less it looked like she was getting in trouble, which was always a plus.

Though, when Coran finally turned to her, the look of knowing pity he was giving her was somehow worse than the lecture about her priorities she had been expecting.

“You know,” he said, drawing it out as if his words were only just forming in his mind as he spoke them, “diplomacy is just as important as understanding currency. Why don’t we cut this half of the lesson short, and test your diplomacy skills.”

It took only a little longer than it probably should have for Allura to realize what her mentor was suggesting. But with a wink at her and a nod toward the other children still screaming outside her window, Coran turned tail and marched out of the room.

Once her shock wore off, it took Allura all of two minutes to dash down the hall to the nearest door and race outside, a goofy grin splitting her face.

She didn’t know how to play their game. But Allura was smart, she was sure she’d be able to pick up on it quickly.

“Hey!” She shouted as soon as she was in range, “That looks like fun! Have room for one more?”

Their reaction was nearly immediate.

At her shout, each of the other kids turned to look at her, the light of surprised excitement dying in their eyes as it registered who had called out to them.

“It’s her!” The shortest one blurted out, before getting elbowed in the ribs by the girl beside him.

“It’s nice to meet you, princess.” the girl responded, initiating a polite, stiff bow, her glare at the others demanding they follow suit.

Allura froze, her voice unable to pass the lump that had suddenly appeared in her throat.

She wanted to tell them not to bow.

Tell them to just call her Allura.

Tell them she just wanted to play.

But the way they looked at her. As if she were a poisonous flower or a supernova or something. Something strange. Fascinating, maybe. But dangerous. Beyond reach.

Something, anything other than a real person.

She watched as they all started backing away from her, fixing their clothes hair and clothes. Trying to hide any signs of imperfection from view as they muttered apologies for being in her courtyard.

As if they were prey trying to escape before the hunter attacked.

She had to let them go. It’s not like she could stop them and force them to play with her.

She straightened her back and put on her best royal smile. Nodding her approval of them and wishing them and their family happiness and health as she gestured for them to leave.

As she watched them retreat, backs turned to her, she felt another pair of eyes on her.

She knew they were Coran’s. But she didn’t dare turn to face the castle. She couldn’t bear the thought of him seeing her cry.

  
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  
_**Abandoned** _

People were EVERYWHERE. Standing so close together, swarming around her, that the castle’s great hall felt more like a dense, threatening jungle than part of Allura’s own home.

The air itself tasted muddy, poisoned by soft-spoken voices churning on top of and into each other. Speaking in so many different languages, some familiar, some she’d not yet learned, spilling into her head.

“We’re so sorry for your loss, your majesty, your highness.”

“May she rest in her rightful place among the Goddesses.”

“Please let us know if there’s anything we can do.”

Each attendee repeated the murmured mantra in their own turn, shaking their heads sadly, their empty promises offering hollow support in the Altean royal family’s time of need.

Everywhere Allura looked a cacophony of color assaulted her vision. Each representative had come dressed in the finest mourning garbs their outfitters could offer. Each one donning their planet’s garish colors of mourning; silently screaming out to Allura and her father, begging for them to see their wearer’s sincere sorrow.

The loudest, sharpest, harshest color of all was the pale pink staining the formal robes worn by both her father, King Alfor, and Coran, his Royal Advisor; and positively drenching her own dress, weighing it down, drowning her.

That damned color bore the truth that countered what every one of Allura’s senses were telling her. That standing in her own home, surrounded on all sides by more people than she could count, Allura was utterly alone.

She could feel the hand resting firmly on her left shoulder; Coran either offering her silent comfort, or making sure she couldn’t bolt. Probably a little of both. But the Coran she knew wasn’t at her side. Her Coran, trusted confidant, brilliant teacher, warm and funny uncle, was nowhere to be seen. This Coran was hard, silent. His mouth nothing more than a hard line, eyes distant, focused on everything and nothing. Taking in each detail within the cavernous room; his body tense, on high alert.

Her father was even further away. The man standing to her right was King Alfor. Powerful and strong. Stoic and impassive. Everything she knew, everything she held dear within him was locked far away from the prying eyes of his public. If she was honest, she hadn’t seen her true beloved father since the moment the news had arrived. His love, his humor, his warmth, his gentle kindness, all of it was locked away. Allura thought she might understand, even if it hurt. It was, she was learning, the only real way to hide the pain. To chain it all up within a cage far away from the sight of others, where it stood the slightest chance of hurting them all a little less.

And her mother…

Well, her mother was the furthest away of all, now. Gone where Allura could never reach her, despite all of the empty condolences the adults currently smothering her tried to offer.

It had barely been a quintant since Allura’s mother had died, the best doctors from across the Alliance having been unable to stop the inevitable. They had all seen it coming. Her mother had fought bravely against the disease that stole her away, tick by tick, but there was just no known cure in existence.

All of this, Allura understood.

All of this, Allura tried to use to keep her standing when she was sure a black hole had opened up in her chest.

All of this built the mask she wore on her face, as she thanked the well-wishing mourners, just as Coran and her father had instructed her.

But none of this protected her from the bite of loneliness eating away at the base of her throat.

  
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  
_**Left Behind** _

She knew he would return.

But that knowledge never made it any easier when her father left for a “Diplomatic Mission” that she wasn’t allowed to join.

He always came back.

But the worry would still settle in her gut, wrapping itself around her insides, setting up residence between her stomach and lungs.

This is how it always went, now that Voltron existed. Allura’s dad, along with the rest of the Voltron paladins would just suddenly take off in their lions on what he always called diplomatic missions.

But Allura wasn’t stupid. She knew what he wasn’t telling her. What Coran’s silences and stern expression meant each time he informed her that King Alfor would be gone with Voltron for the day.

She knew what was at stake.

Especially since she was never allowed to come.

Diplomacy was easy. She had been joining her father on nearly every outing since her mother had died.

It was part of her job, after all. To help represent the Altean people and support her father’s quest for peace throughout the universe.

She was quite good at it, too. Sometimes even able to swing votes and opinions her father had deemed a lost cause.

His secret weapon, he called her.

But if Allura was King Alfor’s secret weapon, then Voltron was the most dangerous threat in his arsenal.

Meaning that if Voltron was going and Allura wasn’t, there was going to be far more danger than diplomacy in this mission.  
She could see the strained frown on Coran’s face, that, in all likelihood, mirrored her own as they watched Voltron launch itself into the sky. Off to save another world.

They didn’t say anything to each other the entire day. There was nothing either of them really could say.

Leaving Allura to wander through the castle, trying to focus on anything but what her father was currently doing.

Which of course never worked. What was the point of doing her busywork while her father and the other paladins were potentially risking their lives this very moment?

Allura knew what her father was capable of. He had been training her in combat for as long as she could remember. And he had the sharpest mind in the galaxy to boot. He was the creator of Voltron, after all.

All the paladins were highly skilled. If there was any group of individuals Allura trusted to keep her father safe, it was the Voltron paladins.

It was the getting left behind that got to her.

Stuck being a useless figurehead. A placeholder royal face until her father returned, lacking any true insight or power.

All of the decision-making and running of the castle was left to Coran when her father was gone. In part, she figured, because her dad knew Coran well enough to know to keep him busy.

But it left her stuck. Useless. Scared. Smiling vaguely at people who caught sight of her until they left her alone.

Waiting until her father returned.

  
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  
_**Isolated** _

She was conscious.

Her father had put her in a deep sleep without warning. An abrupt end to their final, desperate conversation that horrible, horrible night when, in the face of defeat, he had decided to disband Voltron for good.

She didn’t know how long she had been asleep, but she had begun coming out of his induced coma. It had been slow, but she refused to believe that all hope was lost. She was determined to talk sense into her father. To take up her rightful place in this war. At his side, where a King’s daughter belonged. To stand with him against the purple-eyed monster that had been one of their closest friends, once upon a time.

But she had been too slow. She was awake, but her body was not yet responding to her when she heard Coran’s frantic, tearful mumbles to himself as he rushed into her chamber, scooped her up, and ran through the halls.

She couldn’t pick out what exactly he said, but from his tone alone, she knew it was over, all hope was truly lost.

She could feel the cold as her limp body was unceremoniously shoved into a cryo pod.

She hated those terrible things. The way the cold silenced everything within your body, leaving your mind to float away.

Not unconscious, exactly.

But not aware, either.

She fought as hard as she could against the numbing silence that enveloped her body and mind.

Why was she being put into a cryo-pod? She hadn’t been injured at all.

What had happened to her father? Was he in a cryo-pod too?

And what about Coran? Whose authority was he acting under? Her father’s? His own?

But as soon as his hands had left her in the pod, she heard a single, loud, high-pitched sob before the hiss of the closing pod followed by deafening silence.

Coran was gone.

Her father was nowhere to be found.

Her entire world suddenly shrank with suffocating speed as the cold closed in. What had once encompassed the entire universe now floated lost within the encapsulated infinity of the cryo pod.

Even her own thoughts wandered away.

Growing ever more distant.

Until the only thing that existed was the empty cold.

  
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  
_**Foreign** _

Strangers.

Five strangers stood before her. Looking up at her with the wondrous curiosity and fearful determination born from the childlike ignorance of lives lived beyond the reach of the Galra, until now.

They were Paladins of Voltron, that much she could sense automatically. But they weren’t her paladins.

They’re Paladins for a universe Ten-thousand years removed from the universe she knew.

Altea was gone.

Altea and all those who had lived on it had all died thousands of years ago, while she’d slept.

Save for Coran, and a few mice.

But even wonderful, loyal, brilliant, funny Coran couldn’t dispel the emptiness that clawed at her very being; for he was at its mercy just as much as she was.

The universe, which had felt so comfortable her entire life, was now vast and empty. Devoid of any familiarity.

And now, without anyone to reach out to for support beyond the walls of her suddenly small and lonely castle; she was being asked to take up the mantle her father had died bearing so long ago.

Did he die feeling as alone as Allura was now?

She would never know because she hadn’t been allowed to stand by his side.

She had no choice but to carry on his legacy. Because the universe still needed her to, as unforgiving and cold as it now was.

Even if it meant putting her faith in these five young strangers.

Even if it meant standing alone at the helm.

Even if it meant facing off against the Galran Empire, as the last barrier between Zarkon and complete universal domination and destruction.

She couldn’t do it. She knew as much. The odds were stacked so impossibly against her.

If her father, Red Paladin, and creator of Voltron, King Alfor himself hadn’t been able to do it with entire armies on his side; there was no way a frightened, young princess, entirely out of place in this new universe that had aged without her, could do it.

But looking at the faces of these strangers, of Coran… Each looking to her for leadership and guidance. Determination plain as day on their faces. Ready to cast themselves into a war they shouldn’t have ever had to fight. Trusting in her even though she was as foreign to them as could be.

She just had to.

It was as simple as that.

  
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_**Not** _

They had formed Voltron.

SHE had formed Voltron.

Allura wasn’t just a figurehead.

Allura was the Blue Paladin of Voltron.

She was an intrinsic part of the legacy her father had created ten thousand years ago. The legacy that held the entire universe’s hopes and dreams within its grasp.

When they formed Voltron, she could feel the minds of the other paladins and lions within her own. Melding together into one consciousness. The border between their individual selves blurring as they became the entity that is, was, and always will be Voltron: Legendary Defender of the Universe.

If she concentrated hard enough, she could even sense the echoes of the paladins of old, including her father and the Zarkon they had known and loved. The essences of every one of them were still alive and radiating right there alongside hers, within the collective soul of Voltron.

Allura could feel the closeness with and connection to those she loved, both past and present, within every fiber of her being.

And that closeness stayed with her, even after Blue was back in her hangar, and she and the other paladins had gathered in the common area, too exhausted to speak, as Coran gave them a play by play of each moment they had just experienced.

And Allura was listening. She really was.

But Hunk was a warm and comforting presence sitting beside her on the cushioned lounge chair, his arm wrapped loosely around her shoulders as he gently snored.

And Pidge was on the floor, cuddled up like a cat; head against her shins.

And Keith was on her other side, his back resting against her shoulder and Lance draped himself across all of them, his hand idly carding through Pidge’s helmet hair.

And Shiro was here. Safe and smiling at them as he stood beside Coran, nodding along to what he was saying.

As he finished his spiel, however, Coran locked eyes with Allura; his warm, genuine smile fully shining through for the first time since they had awoken.

And in that moment, Allura knew.

She was no longer alone.

She could never be alone again.

Not now. Now that she had a family whose existence surpassed time and space. Not now that she had formed Voltron.

Her very essence was permanently tied to everything that had ever mattered to her, and nothing could ever take that away.


End file.
